And Her Name
by Daisee Chain
Summary: A Rose's bloom will eventually fade. Spoilers for 2005 season, 9 and Rose. Written prior to School Reunion. Think of it as AU, if you wish.


It's an office block. It's not what she expected. It's straight up and down, concrete, prickly cast concrete, the kind that always makes her think it needs an industrial defuzzer, and it's grey. It could practically blend into the pavement it's that unremarkable.

And it's in Croydon. She didn't expect that either. When she thinks about it a bit more, she realises she hadn't really known what to expect, just not… this. Not a concrete office block in Croydon.

"Oh God. Please let this be the wrong address."

But it's there on the printout in her hand. It says so in Black and White. Paper from the papertrail. Sarah Jane Smith works in this building, as a research assistant. Is this what she has to look forward to? Excitement. Adventure. Reeeally wild things. Then a Nine-to-Five as the photocopy girl?

Well, she won't find out by staring at a building, so she pastes on a bright smile, and walks confidently in. She's focussed, she's determined. She's so focussed and determined, that the slightly psychic paper she nicked from the Doc convinces security she has every right to just waltz in the front door, and on past the metal detectors, and into the lifts. As the doors slide together in front of her, she realises the lift has fewer floor buttons than the number of floors she counted from the outside. Which is kind of odd. But Floor 17 is still there, the one with Sarah Jane on it, so that's alright then. She tugs her t-shirt down at the front, smoothes her hair with her hand, and presses the button.

Maybe it takes slightly longer for the lift to start than it would normally, but it's been so long now since she's taken an office lift in London that she can't be sure. Maybe she's measuring it by interstellar standards, or by future ones. She can't always keep track these days. There's a lot of information in her head, and some of the trivial stuff goes missing. At least, she hopes it's trivial. She's taken to letting the Doctor take care of the details. He knows everything anyway, or likes to think he does. It's tough to shut him up, at any rate. And that irritates her more than it used to.

There's a small moment of weightlessness as the lift comes to a halt, falling gently and slightly back into position for the doors to open. A tin can pinging sound announces her arrival.

"Hello," she smiles as she waves the paper in front of the receptionist, "I've come to talk to Ms Smith."

The receptionist gives her a slow once over, in clear disapproval of her dress sense. "Yes, well. Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but she'll want to see me anyway. My name is Rose Tyler. I work with The Doctor."

"One lump or two?"

"Two please. And some sugar as well."

As Sarah Jane's mouth crooks slightly, fine lines appear around the edges of her lips. "He never tires of that old joke, does he?"

"Not that I can tell."

They're in a small coffee room. It's very, very ordinary, and boring. There's a thin white kitchen bench, on which sits an old microwave, and even older kettle. There's a boiler attached to the wall above the sink, but she can tell from here it's broken. A sign hangs above the sink. It says 'You don't have to be insane to work here, but it helps.' She rolls her eyes. Sarah Jane starts making tea, turning her back to Rose. Ms Smith's hair is cut into a neatly razored bob. She can't tell what she thinks of the outfit. Bit 70's really, but maybe she's been away so long that plaid A-line skirts and brown knee length boots are back in fashion.

Eventually the tea finishes brewing, and Rose takes hers, truly grateful. She's not often back in England anymore. She misses a good milky tea.

"So what do you want to know?"

"What…" she hesitates, staring into the mug as she turns it in her hands. She's not really sure how to ask, or even what she wants to know. She just knows she has to know.

"How long have you been travelling with him?"

"Couple of years now. I think. Lost track really."

"It gets that way."

She can sense Sarah Jane's scrutiny before she looks up for confirmation. This is a woman who has been round the block, no, the universe a few times. Which is why Rose is here and now. "Why did you leave him?" There. She's asked.

"I didn't. He left me."

"He told me otherwise."

"He's like that sometimes."

Rose juts her chin out slightly at the perceived insult, ready to be indignant on his behalf. "A liar?"

"Forgetful. He can get confused about what really happens."

Well, that's true enough. She's seen a few examples of it herself. She supposes it must be difficult to keep track over so many lifetimes. What is 950 in Timelord years anyway? Are human years like dog years to him? Could this be as simple as a midlife crisis? Maybe she can convince him to buy a sports car.

"He's changed." There she is, blurting again. It all seemed like such an easy conversation in her head, before she got here.

"They all do."

"No. I mean really changed. One minute he was full of life and adventure, and the next…"

"The next morning you woke up and his face…" Sarah Jane breaks off as another woman enters the room. "And he wasn't the same person you fell in love with."

She nods, unable to put voice to her fear. She puts her cup on the table, then picks it up again, and turns it around so the handle faces the other way. The interloper is taking her time.

"It's the way of things."

"But I thought he was different!"

"Well he is, isn't he?"

There isn't much arguing with that really, but she tries anyhow. "Yeah, but I thought we could, you know, get through it somehow. Talk things through." Oh yeah. That's articulate. "Or something." She cringes.

Sarah Jane tilts her head and peers at Rose over her glasses. "When I was your age, I was a journalist. I was going to change the world. Women were going to be freed from the tyranny of men, and I was going to be at the front lines of the crusade."

"So what happened?"

"On my first assignment, I was sent off to meet a professor. I started out the day by trying to interview the wrong person. He wasn't who I thought he was either." The memory seems to amuse her.

"He was upset because…?"

"Well, the professor was quite polite, but she made it clear she thought I was an idiot."

"Oh."

"I mistook her assistant for the Professor. The lesson being, you need to check your assumptions at the door. Life is never quite as simple as we think when we are young, and what seem obvious and important will often turn out to be extremely complicated or even trivial, in the grand scheme of things. "

"You're not a feminist anymore, then?"

"No longer a journalist." Sarah Jane moves away from the sink to allow her collegue access, and gestures to a small, white formica table. "Shall we take a seat?"

"Yeah, ok." Her legs are a bit tired, There'd been a lot of running away yesterday. Something else that seems to happen a lot more often now. Less taking a stand, more running away.

She sits on a slightly wobbly chair, placing her mug on the table, then grabs for it as it slides slowly toward the floor.

Sarah Jane sits opposite, the Argos cheap table forming a barricade between them. "Sorry. I ought to have warned you about the sudden tilt."

"S'ok. I'm used to things like that." They exchange knowing glances.

The coworker leaves. Not before time, but it means she's alone again, with the ex, as it were. This is well strange, right here. There can't be that many women whose boyfriends have 70 year old exes. And she'd thought her life couldn't possibly get any weirder.

"So was his change the only reason for which I'm honoured with your presence?"

Was it? "I don't know." She admits. "I just… There's no guidebook, y'know? No handy references, or useful tips left behind by anyone else who travelled with him. But I know they were there. The Tardis is full of memories."

"How did you know I was there?"

"He kept a room full of your things. I found them once. Asked him." It was close enough to the truth. No point in muddying waters, explaining that the Tardis had been inside her head, allowing her to see the Doctor's past travels.

"My things? He kept them?" Sarah Jane's face contorts briefly. "Maybe I should ask for them back. That's probably where my house keys were." She looks off, apparently lost in thought. "Which still doesn't explain why you came to me."

"You were the closest."

"Dimensionally?"

"Timewise. Geographically. Genderifically."

"Genderifically?"

"Ok. I just make that word up."

"I had no cause to think otherwise. You needed a girl talk?"

"Yes. Well, there was this one other girl, but I don't think she and the Doctor were ever that, um, close." Which wasn't strictly true. Ace had been very close with the Doc. Just as close as Susan had been to him. A very different sort of relationship. Somehow, she didn't think Ace would be able to help her out here. Even if she could track her down at some time when she wasn't still travelling with him.

"I see." Sarah Jane's stiffens suddenly at the hint that Rose i knows /i .

God. They could go on all day like this. "I love him. I know he loved me, but now he's changed and I can't work out what he wants anymore." She shifts, uncomfortable in her seat. "And there's someone else as well."

"There often was."

"Oh. Oh!" This is news, although… no, there it is. That itching memory she's been trying desperately not to scratch. She'd already known and not wanted to. She hesitates, unsure if she should reveal the other complication. "So Jack isn't..?"

Sarah Jane gives her A Look, which could be pity, or might be exasperation. Hard to tell. "I found it easiest not to judge him by our standards. Companions come and go. Best just to get used to it really."

The inside of her mug suddenly seems very important to Rose. "And how do you tell when it's time? To go, I mean."

"Are you happy with him?"

"Define happy."

Sarah Jane snorts. "I think you just answered your own question. I doubt very much he's the only one in the Tardis who has been changed by their journey."

Rose is beginning to think coming to see this woman was a mistake. It would help, possibly, if she was sometimes wrong about things. "I was running. When I met him."

"Toward what?"

"More kind of what from."

"From what, then?"

Dead end jobs. Department stores. A life split between working, washing and reality television. "Me, mostly. And the Autons of course. But they were mainly after him."

Sarah Jane raises an arched brow at the mention of Autons. "And are you still running now?"

"All the time. Sometimes it seems like we never stop."

"Yes, but are you running from, or to?"

It had been her choice to come here. Hers. Not the Doctor's. Not Jack's. She'd whined. She'd wheedled. She told him she was running out of mascara. She'd got her way.

"To." And then, because Sarah Jane is looking expectantly at her, she elaborates. "To me, finally. I think."

Grey hair ruffles slightly as Sarah Jane nods.

"But I still love him." Even to her it sounds like a whine. This wasn't quite the comforting conversation she'd hoped for. The one where Sarah Jane told her it was all going to turn out alright and they would all live happily ever after.

"You may still love him, but are you happy with him? How old are you? 20? 21? Been getting out of breath lately? Are you finding it more difficult to keep up with him?"

Rose bites her lip, not wanting to answer.

"He can give you anything you want, you're aware of that already, I believe. Anything at all. Galaxies at your fingertips, the beginning and end of creation, but he'll never be able to give you the one thing you want most."

"And what's that?" Her voice is so low she doesn't think Sarah Jane will hear her, but it seems she is wrong.

"Stability."

Rose coughs as her tea chokes in her throat. "Cheers!" She says, finally managing to swallow what now seems like iron shards. "Like you said, I'm only 21. I'm hardly looking for china patterns yet."

"Who said anything about getting married?" The table tilts back the other way as Sarah Jane thumps her mug firmly on the surface. "Look you silly girl, everyone needs some stability. It might be family to live with, the same house to live in, or even just the same job for 30 years."

Rose looks up sharply. Just how long has Ms Smith been working in this same building? "Built up a good supply of paperclips, have you?"

"Stability," says Sarah Jane, ignoring the sarcasm, "is how we manage to stay sane. We don't need it in every aspect of our lives, but we all need something to stay the same for us, no matter the circumstances. One thing we can rely on not to change without notice."

She thinks of the Tardis. Thinks of walking its corridors, discovering rooms that probably hadn't been there the day previous, and might not be there tomorrow. Recalls the gleaming white halls morphing out of beige Victoriana. Bedrooms filled with the ghosts of companions long gone, but whom were never quite allowed to leave.

The Tardis takes her a new place each day. Another world, another star system, another era. The first place he took her. The end of the Earth. His idea of a first date. She should have known.

"No stability." She looks away to the window, because she knows this is also true.

"Not as long as you remain with him, no." Sarah Jane reaches over and hands her a handkerchief.

She looks down just long enough to accept the offering, which she dabs under her eyes. Wet black mascara streaks its pristine white surface. She moves to return it, then flounders, realising she should probably clean it first.

"Keep it. No, on second thoughts, don't. Give it back to him."

"The Doctor uses white hankies?"

"No. Some old travelling friend named Victoria. I never met her, but it should probably go back with her things."

Rose stares at the smears of jet. "Why's he keep all the mementos, do you think?"

"I suspect he needs some stability too." Sarah Jane's nails suddenly seem to interest her. "We keep leaving him, you see."

The handkerchief stills in her hands. "I could stay on for a bit. See if things change."

"You might. But you won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're both running in different directions now."

She breathes deeply, but it feels like her lungs are filled with sawdust. Why is it that simple truths always hurt so much? She looks back. "No. You're right. I won't."

"You will go back and let him down gently though, won't you? I hate to think of him hurting. He was always more fragile than he liked to appear."

"Hmm. That'd be the stable part then."

That gets a barking laugh out of Sarah Jane. "Where will you go?"

"Don't know. Can't go back home now. I can visit, but it's not the same. I've seen too much and they're still rabbiting on about 'Big Brover'." She shudders.

Sarah Jane misreads her distaste. "Yes, I know what you mean. I loathe those reality shows. Someone's going to be badly injured on one soon, you mark my words."

You have no idea. "I guess I'll move back into The City, find a job, find a flat." She grimaces. "God. That sounds so mundane. I can't believe it's all over."

"Hmmm." An aubergine coloured nail taps against mauve lipstick. "Why don't you see the receptionist on the way out?"

"Um, 'cause she didn't like me very much?" What's this now?

"I'm sure we can bring her around. It's just in her job description to be suspicious."

"And here's me thinking it's just in her nature."

There's that lopsided smile again. "That too. There's probably going to be an opening coming up soon, in this office. Your skills and experience could be just what we're looking for."

She pulls a face. "What, convincing rich tarts they need more slap? Oh!" She covers her mouth with her hand, to prevent more stupid comments leaking out. "Sorry. I didn't mean… " She shrugs. "I just meant, I only ever trained as a sales girl. You're right, about me wanting a more quiet life now, but I don't think I'm really cut out for an office."

Sarah Jane peers over her glasses and smiles. "How do you know? I haven't yet told you what the job is." She stands suddenly, forcing Rose to crane her neck if she wants to look at her face. "But first, there's the little matter of you making a break for it. Time to make a decision, young Rose Tyler. Do you prefer to keep running in his shadow, or would you like to make a name for yourself on your own terms?"

It's no contest really. The Doctor may still love her, but she can't compete with Jack anymore for mystery. And the one thing the Doc loves more than anything else, is a good mystery. "For everything, turn, turn." She mutters.

Rising, she grabs her own mug, and Sarah Jane's and takes them to the sink. She rinses them briefly, a faint scent of coffee drifting to her as she watches the leftover brown liquid swirl down the drain. It had tasted awful.

She laughs. "If you expect me to work here, you'll have to provide better coffee. This stuff was rank."

"Take it up with the boss, if you join us." Sarah Jane smiles that strange lopsided smile again, and Rose suddenly realises where she's seen that smile so many times already.

"You have some of his mannerisms you know." She says as they leave the tea room.

"There's a piece of everyone we've ever loved in each of us. We never really leave them behind."

"And some are harder to leave than others, right?"

"Right." Sarah Jane nods toward a grey metal door, past reception. "My break is over. I'd best be going."

"Yeah. Me too. Be going. And all that." She nods, and heads toward the lifts in reception. Just as that same tinny bell announces the lifts arrival, she spins back round. "What was her name?" She calls out.

Sarah Jane calls back over her shoulder. "The Professor? I'll tell you about her if you like. Next time I see you."

"I'll hold you to it." The lift doors close in on her as she steps into the box. And then she's on her way, her mood sinking along with the lift.

She's going to have to tell him it's over.


End file.
